


Stumbling and Staggering

by Whump-with-wren (Spannah339)



Series: Bad Things Happen [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Sensory Deprivation, Whump, hearing loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 11:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spannah339/pseuds/Whump-with-wren
Summary: Another





	Stumbling and Staggering

By all accounts, it had been a normal day. Foggy and Karen had managed to convince Matt to join them at Josie’s after work, and now, slightly tipsy, Foggy had insisted on walking home with Matt.

The easy and casual conversation they had kept up since saying goodbye to Karen continued as they walked down the street, Matt’s hand on Foggy’s arm. Foggy was in the middle of retelling in detail his pool game with Karen when Matt stopped abruptly, listening.

Foggy, a step in front of Matt stopped as well, turning back to him with a frown.

“Matt?” he asked. Matt raised a hand, shushing him softly, head cocked slightly to one side.

“I hear something,” he said quietly. After a long pause, he spoke again. “Three men, trying to move quietly. Their hearts are beating quickly, they’re up to something.” Foggy shifted, looking around as though he could see the men Matt had mentioned.

“Something good, I hope,” he said hopefully.

“I’m going to go with probably – **_ah_**!”

An earsplitting screech erupted through the air and Matt staggered, clamping his hands over his ears. He stumbled backwards, the sound overwhelming him momentarily.

Almost as soon as it had begun the sound stopped. Matt slowly lowered his hands, sticky with blood that was trickling down either side of his face. With growing panic, he realised he could barely hear anything.

“Fog–Foggy!” he called out, taking an uncertain step forward. He could hardly hear his own voice, could definitely not hear if Foggy was saying anything.

For a terrifying moment, he stumbled in the dark, unsure of where he was or what was around him. Then something solid scraped against his flailing arm and he pressed against the wall, anchoring himself.

“Fog-” he began but was cut off by something slamming into his chest. He doubled over, a gasp of air escaping him. Another blow slammed into the side of his head, knocking his glasses off. He pressed up against the wall, raising his hands to protect himself.

Again and again, more blows rained down on him. Lost in the silent darkness Matt could do nothing but try to protect his head, to feel the panic climbing ever higher up his throat.

He slid down the wall, curling into himself as more blows pounded against him. No way of knowing where they were coming from, no way to stop them. A sobbing gasp escaped his lips and he curled tighter into himself.

Then, almost as though the man was in his presence, Stick’s voice echoed through his mind.

“ _Get up, Matty. What are you doing? Stop being so pathetic - you still have three working senses - **use them**._”

Closing his eyes, Matt tried to tune out the pain from the blows. He focused on what he could experience. The almost overwhelming smell of his blood - but as he focused more he could make out more. Sweat, adrenalin, dirt, the faint hint of alcohol and what was _definitely_ not Foggy’s blood. He focused on what he could feel - the vibrations in the air as the men around him moved.

Then, taking a long breath, he _moved_.

The air around him shifted and he lashed out, feeling the solid connection as his hands grasped onto the arm of one of his attackers. Twisting away from another blow, he practically threw the man over him, using the momentum to scramble to his feet, shuffling backwards until his back pressed up against the wall.

He stayed low, fists raised as he located his attackers. Now that he was focusing and the panic had subsided it was surprisingly easy to locate them. They each had a distinct smell about them, and all of them were moving enough to send vibrations through the air.

The first man had fallen hard - from what Matt could tell he was still on the ground. The other two seemed startled, hesitating long enough for Matt to recover and prepare himself for another round.

(He refused to think of Foggy. Refused to focus on the worrying smell of his friend’s blood in the air. Refused to allow himself to be distracted.)

Something flew near his head and he danced to one side, feeling the vibrations in the air and the sharp taste of blood as the fist slammed into the wall behind him. He ducked forward, landing a blow under the chin of the man who had thrown the punch and feeling him drop. Matt knew from experience he wasn’t going to be getting up for a while.

A rush of air over his hair caused him to dart sideways, instinctively spinning and swinging his fist. Again, the satisfying impact of his fist hitting flesh rewarded him and without hesitation he grabbed wildly, managing to snag someone’s hair and brought his knee up to his attacker’s face.

The man dropped to the ground and Matt let out a long breath, panting heavily. He stumbled forward, pressing a hand to the wall and focusing on breathing, focusing on blocking out the pain.

Someone was behind him. He spun, ready to attack, to defend himself, but as he did he knew he didn’t have time for anything but raising his hands above his head and wait for the pain. For a terrifying moment, time froze, then something rushed past his face, landing on the ground in front of him.

A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched, grabbing it and preparing to flip whoever it was until Foggy’s familiar smell hit him. Letting out a long breath, he dropped his hands, stumbling back and pressing them to his head.

He still couldn’t hear anything. Breathing heavily, he raised a shaking hand, pressing it against the bruises along his side and reaching blindly for the comforting presence of his friend. As Foggy grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug, Matt allowed himself a moment of relief at the knowledge that Foggy hadn’t been hurt.

Matt could feel the vibration of Foggy’s voice as he talked, the rough fabric of his shirt against his skin, the comforting warmth and solid nature of his embrace.

“..okay?”

The question sounded distant and far away, but it was something. He looked up, trying to focus his hearing, to make out the world around him once more. Foggy’s voice was unsteady but constant, talking nonstop, slowly becoming easier to make out.

Matt pulled himself out of Foggy’s embrace as the world slowly began to take shape again, as the sounds of the city came back to him, the sheer noise of it overwhelming him. He stumbled back, staggering into the wall again, hands pressed to his ears.

“ _Focus Matty._ ” Stick’s voice in his mind spoke over the cacophony of noise from around him, the cars screaming past him, thousands of voices, shouts, laughs, screams, bird calls, noise noise noise.

“Matt?”

He let out a long breath, looking up and making out the vague shape of Foggy standing in front of him. He focused, focused on Foggy’s steady and worried heartbeat, focused on one sound and tuned out the rest of the loud city.

“I’m - I’m okay,” he said shakily. Now that the danger was gone and he wasn’t drowning in sound, the pain from his beating throbbed through him and he groaned, pushing himself away from the wall. He swayed slightly, and Foggy was quick to rush to his side, offering support that Matt gratefully accepted. “What happened?” Then, remembering the worrying scent of Foggy’s blood that still hung in the air, “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Matt - but what about you? The hell was that? I _know_ you can fight better than that.”

Matt took a long moment to process what Foggy was asking. He was exhausted, his hearing still playing up and he was finding it difficult to continuously tone out the busy city noises.

“Talk to me, Murdock,” Foggy said, breaking through his muddled thoughts.

“You didn’t hear it?” he muttered. Foggy shook his head, seemed to remember Matt may not be able to see that, then said, “Uh, no, hear what?”

“Loud noise, knocked out my hearing.”

Foggy swore, shifting under Matt’s weight. Matt tried to shift and lean on his friend with less weight but he didn’t have the energy. Everything hurt.

“You okay now?” Foggy asked. Then before Matt could answer, added “Don’t bother answering, knowing you it won’t be true. Let’s get you home.”   
  
Matt didn’t have the energy to answer, just nodded weakly.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“You gotta be more careful, Matt. Oh, and I owe you a cane - I may have broken it over the head of one of those guys.”


End file.
